Page 189 of Checking Out the Librarian

He could handle Connor if he only looked out of the side of his eye while he gave Ribby welcoming neck scritches.

“You’re a good doggy. You’re not wearing cowboy clothes, no, you’re not. You’re not distracting me, you good doggo.”

Outside of the air-conditioned car, the heat and sun were immediately relentless, and his fitted white T-shirt started to stick to his back, but at least it wasn’t humid. His hair wouldn’t restyle itself from relentless humidity like it always had when he lived in New York.

He’d worn battered jeans and his best white T-shirt because he assumed Connor’s parents were, like a lot of their generation, fans of Born in the USA. The positive associations with the album cover could work in his favor.

He hadn’t anticipated the effect on Connor.

“Fuck, you look hot.” Connor had some sexy cowboy enhanced version of his bedtime voice going on. And the damn boots made him loom even taller. Not fair. Not not not fair.

“I figured I could stick a red bandana in my back pocket and be Bruce Springsteen.” He popped his ass from his position partially crouched to pet Ribby.

Mistake. Or not. Because then Connor nudged Ribby away and hauled Jonathan up into his arms and Connor had his big hands right there on Jonathan’s butt while he lifted and spun him.

“How about if I’m the bandana.” And Connor was still twirling. “I missed you.”

“Connor! Put me down!”

He smelled like sweat and different soap and what must be leather and hay and he didn’t know what else, but it was so much that Jonathan wondered how Ribby lived with this many smells around him. He wanted to wiggle away, but he also wanted to bury his face in Connor’s neck and lick him.

Ugh, so maddening. And that stupid giant sexy hat was stopping them from kissing.

“But you’re here!” Connor did some weird move where he bumped the brim of the hat on Jonathan’s head and then whipped his chin up in order to flick his hat back, leaving an endearing red line across his forehead.

“Fuck it.” He wrapped himself all the way around Connor, as wrapped as wrapped could be, legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, and leaned into the inevitable.

Yes, this is a kissing book. Even librarians like Jonathan who had definitely never obsessed over Princess Bride knew that line, because it had inspired a million special displays.

Connor kissed him right back. He hadn’t shaved and his upper lip scratched Jonathan’s.

He was going to have a problem really quickly with that stubble. A pants problem. Wait, there already was a problem. “Stop, ouch, your buckle is⁠—”

“My buckle? Or my buuuckle.” Connor’s voice dropped as he stretched out the last word.

“The metal thing that isn’t fun at all, that buckle.”

Ribby quit circling and tried to stick his face between them but ended up nosing Jonathan’s butt, which made everything weird.

Connor sighed and lowered him until his sneakers reached the ground. “Darn. I wanted you focused on something else.”

“The other thing isn’t nearly as hard and poky.”

“You kill me.” He spread his palm wide over his left pectoral and grinned. “Strike through my heart.”

“Whatever. Time to do this?” Because the bike rack blocked his trunk, Jonathan opened the back door to grab his suitcase, but Connor was in the way and holding out his hands. If he grabbed it, he would realize how much Jonathan had packed for a three-night trip. “I can carry it myself.”

“I know, but you’re a guest.” He took Jonathan’s hand with his free one, pressed it to his chest, and then spread his hand out to cover it. “And if I don’t have something to do with my hands, I’m going to be touching you. My mother’s inside trying to be subtle, but that won’t last much longer, and my dad and Jess are out with the herd.”

He was absurdly happy to have his hand trapped between Connor’s chest and palm. The soft denim shirt was hot and damp to the touch, but he didn’t mind one bit. “I’m glad we’re easing into this.”

“You’ll be alright.” Before Connor finished his sentence, Jonathan heard the front door close and turned to see a middle-aged woman on the porch. Her timing was so impeccable, Jonathan realized she must have been watching for the suitcases, like a signal. Or at least not not-watching.

She resembled Connor, a bundle of wavy gold hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a lot of it springing around her face, and a smile that reached all the way across the flower beds.

“Hi there!” She waved and started to descend the steps.

“Hello!” Jonathan waved for a moment and then quickly opened the front passenger door and grabbed the cute basket he and Lily had scoured Eugene gift stores to assemble.